CHAPTER 9
It was mutually decided that they'd have something else on the TV while they put up the popcorn, and though more Christmas music would have been just as nice, Clayton thought it was a nice gesture when Kyle ran through the channels and settled on the Patriots vs. Steelers game. Which he quickly found out as they started laying strings of popcorn wasn't a gesture. Kyle was a football fan.
"I don't know how this game is going to go," said Kyle. "But it should be good, even though Johnson broke his leg and can't play." Kyle rolled his eyes to show how foolish a thing it was to break your leg when you were on one of the Super Bowl-worthy teams.
"Yeah, should be good," said Clayton. He followed the Denver Broncos, of course, but they weren't in the running this year, so any game would be fun to watch. "You like football?" he asked.
"I do," said Kyle, frowning as he laid a string on an evergreen branch and then tweaked the pine needles so the string wove between them. "I prefer baseball, to be honest. I like to go to the games, order a beer and a bratwurst with mustard andsauerkraut, and enjoy the evening air. The best part is the seventh inning stretch, of course."
"How about basketball?" asked Clayton, as he held the string up for Kyle so it wouldn't get tangled. "Follow any teams?"
"Actually, no," said Kyle, shaking his head, his attention focused on what he was doing. "Too much running up and down, too much hype. Too much indoor, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I kind of do," said Clayton.
He'd watched a few basketball games on TV, attended a few when he could afford the tickets, which wasn't often, and even then, he'd been in the nosebleed seats. It was always noisy and chaotic, and he compared that now in his mind to what a baseball game would be like, to go in person when the weather was nice, and to sit in the stands with somebody you liked to watch the game unfold before you.
"Maybe we could go sometime," said Clayton, speaking before he'd fully thought this out.
"To a basketball game?" asked Kyle. He frowned at the popcorn string in his hand and looked dubious.
"No, to a baseball game," said Clayton. "We can catch a couple of tickets on the corner by the stadium by some guy who's selling them—" He stopped himself because it sounded very much like he was asking Kyle out. Like on a date.
"Isn't that illegal?" asked Kyle. "I've done enough illegal things this year."
"What?"
"The Bowie knife and Indian beaded sheath," said Kyle. "They were stolen goods. I'm practically a felon!"
Clayton laughed out loud, feeling it in his belly, and almost dropped the popcorn string. Kyle was the least likely person to ever become a felon that Clayton had ever met.
Quite soon, they both decided that the game was too noisy. While they rearranged the silver tinsel to fit the newly drapedpopcorn string, they turned off the TV and built a fire with the wood that Clayton had brought inside.
Kyle put on Christmas music, which played softly in the background while they worked. It was fitting, then, in the glow of the living room, decked out for the holidays, that Kyle served them glasses of eggnog with rum.
After a little while, Kyle stepped back to examine the tree, his head tipped to one side. He looked sweet in the light of the Christmas tree and the glow of the fire, his russet hair lit up with gold, the planes of his cheeks rosy with pleasure. Clayton shook his head because he shouldn't be thinking that about his host. Not when they were just about strangers to each other.
"So," said Kyle. He moved toward the tree to turn one of the bubble lights more upright. "Why didn't you go to your sister's wedding, six months ago? Did you object to the groom?"
Clayton sighed and shook his head as he took another slug of eggnog with rum. He figured it might come to this, that as Kyle was an over-sharer, he was also an I-want-to-know-you kind of guy as well. But since the hour was late, and the rum had soothed him down to his bones, he figured it might be okay, maybe, to open up a little.
"When my nephew Shawn was eight," said Clayton, trying to begin that way. Then he coughed and began again. "Well, two years ago Sarah was married to this guy, and he seemed okay, a little bossy maybe, but he treated her well. I thought I'd come out and be honest?—"
"Do you mean out, as in literallyout?" asked Kyle, who had been paying very close attention indeed.
"Yes," said Clayton, for there was no sense in denying it. Besides which, Kyle had mentioned his two friends from Chicago who werea couple, you know, so he probably wouldn't mind. "It's my nature, as Uncle Bill calls it."
"Your nature?" asked Kyle.
"Uncle Bill likes to use his own terms for things," explainedClayton. "Well, anyway, Sarah's ex, he didn't like it and kicked me out of the house, told me never to come back. And the thing was, she took his side."
"Aw, man, that sucks," said Kyle, and there was so much sympathy in his voice that Clayton almost couldn't bear it.
"When she divorced him it was on account of she'd met Luke," said Clayton, talking as fast as he could to get it all out. "I don't think she would have had the strength without him to do it. When they got married, her and Luke, I was still hurt by it all and didn't go. And now I regret that."
"But she's forgiven you, right? And you her?" asked Kyle. He served them both some more eggnog and rum, which, at this point, was less eggnog and more rum. "She invited you to Christmas, right?"
"She did, and I did, I think," said Clayton, slowly, taking a long slow sip. "But you miss out on some things, and you can't ever go back to them. I screwed up, and it just eats at me. Ever since."
